


even if we're miles apart

by alixnqveen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu has seperation anxiety lmao, Character Study, Family Drama, Gen, I just really love the Miya fucks, No Beta, Osamu's got life plans, Sibling Rivalry, Slight Manga Spoilers, We Die Like Men, You Decide, and that scares them uh oh, are Osamu and Suna flirting?, headcanon heavy, it isn't abt OsaSuna so like it really is up to you, or is it just banter?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alixnqveen/pseuds/alixnqveen
Summary: His steps began going sluggish, he considered stopping right there. But Osamu continued on regardless, even though each step felt like he’d crack in two. The thoughts swam around his mind like dark, murky water, and Osamu wondered if he'd drown in it eventually. Something needed to be said, he knew, but what?The chill air pulled on his shoulders. How was he going to fix this? He was being overdramatic, he knew he was. But for the first time, it felt like the world around him was crashing down faster than he could keep up, and for the first time, Atsumu wasn’t with him to face the unknown.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Osamu & Suna Rintarou (kinda)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	even if we're miles apart

“You mean you haven’t told him yet?”

Osamu tapped his pencil on the desk, not meeting Suna’s questioning gaze. He almost felt like he was being scolded by a parent. He fiddled with the cuff of his jacket sleeve as he mumbled, “Well… no. I think he knows, he’s known for a bit now, but…”

Suna sighed semi-dramatically, rubbing his face. He groaned beneath his hands, “You twins exhaust me, I swear.”

“I’ve been dropping hints, I guess, since All-Japan-”

“Oh, I’m sure you did that expertly.”

“Shut it,” he rolled his eyes, putting the pencil down. “Anyway, he still talks about ‘when we graduate’ and all this stuff about becoming pros and goin’ to the Olympics. I just don’t know how to tell ‘im without pissing him off and causing a whole shitshow.”

Suna slid his fingers open, sharp green eyes peeking underneath that showed nothing but sarcasm. He lifted an eyebrow mischievously. “Well, c’mon there, ‘Samu,” he mimicked the Kansai dialect poorly. “Y’know either way he’s gonna be all mad at ya, goddammit.”

“I fucking hate you, why do I even talk to ya.”

“Shush now,” Suna’s amusement showed in his cheeks. He dropped his hands, resting them on the back of the chair he sat backwards in. “Look. I think it might be best to just tell him. Like ripping off a bandaid. He’d take it better if you get it all out in the open instead of leaving it subtle for him to find out himself sooner or later, you know?”

Osamu sighed through his nose, leaning back in his chair. Ever since the start of their second year, Osamu knew he wasn’t entirely sold on continuing volleyball after high school. It was staggering, realizing he seriously needed to start thinking about his future even if he wasn’t a third year yet, and even more uneasy was realizing that he didn’t actually want to keep playing volleyball like Atsumu did. It took some time, but when Aran once mentioned his skill and love for cooking and suggested opening his own business, the more Osamu thought about it and worked it out in his head, the more he genuinely considered it. Just how to really bring it up to Atsumu was what worried him. He looked away again, glancing at the clock without really seeing it, “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“That’s a fucking lie. You’re full of shit.”

“Don’t you mean ‘that’sa fuckin’ lie, yer full a’ shit’.”

“Never speak to me again.”

“I’m okay with that, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

He met Suna’s gaze again, smiling a bit. He smirked back at him, then pulled away as well, stretching his arms out in front of him, “In any case, it might be better to tell him during practice. In case you guys throw hands, we’ll be there to stop you.”

“You’d pull me back?”

Suna’s expression twisted in thought for a moment, then he shrugged, “Well, of course not me. I just like to sit back and watch. You guys are hilarious when you’re angry at each other like that.”

“Glad we can provide you entertainment.” Rolling his eyes again, Osamu took up his pencil once more. Before he could say much else, out of the corner of his eye he saw their teacher coming their way. He tapped Suna’s work, signalling her arrival, and he casually leaned back into to his worksheet as well. Osamu flashed him a look - based on the set of her brow and the frown on her face, she was ready to grill them.

“Suna, Miya,” she greeted once she reached them, an obvious hint of suspicion in her tone. “How’re you two doing?”

Suna spoke first, his voice less snarky than when he talked to Osamu, “I actually think we got this on lock, Yoshino-sensei.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Oh really? Because I’ve seen you two talkin’ quite a bit this period. Don’t tell me you’re slackin’ off your studying since that tournament.”

When the corners of Suna’s lips lifted, Osamu knew before he even said anything he was up to something. His worries were confirmed as he said, “Of course not. But, now that you mention it, I think Miya had a question about the conversions. Poor guy’s stumped.”

Osamu straightened, throwing a glare that screamed ‘I hate you’. Suna didn’t answer, but the glint in his thin eyes was response enough: ‘have fun!’ they said. It was eerily fitting how fox-like this jerk was. Yoshino put her hands on her hips, looking at Osamu's work, “What can I help ya with, Miya?”

Osamu struggled through pretending he was confused, having the properties explained to him once more as Suna sat back to watch, amused by his predicament. Every now and then Suna would chip in a word or two in faked sincerity or ask a clarifying question to prolong their teacher's presence, and every now and then Osamu was _this_ close to clobbering him right there. Playing dumb was not Osamu’s specialty.

“Yeah, I think I got it now,” Osamu nodded curtly once Suna had run out of quips and unnecessary questions. “Thank you, sensei.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Let me know if you need any more help, boys.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Suna slowly repeated as she turned to walk away.

Osamu glared at him, meanwhile Suna tried to hide his smile as he went back to work. “I’m going to hurt you,” droned Osamu, poking Suna’s forehead with his pencil.

“I dare you to try,” Suna stuck out his tongue, flashing a middle finger. When Osamu only crossed his arms with a disinterested huff, Suna laughed a bit, “Pathetic.”

…

‘So you didn't tell him.’

‘So I didn't.’

‘Maaaaan I was looking forward to seeing you guys duke it out.’

‘Are you only concerned about us fighting?’

‘Maybe I am.’

‘You’re a great friend.’

‘I know. :)’

Atsumu broke the silence, “Who’re you texting?”

“Why do you care?” Osamu slipped his phone back into his pocket, deciding to keep his hands there since it was getting cold again. He kept his gaze straight ahead, expressionless as usual, but the thread of guilt - the one he felt ever since he realized for himself about his future - tightened around his heart. He was delaying the inevitable, and he knew that, but there just never seemed to be a right time to bring it up.

Atsumu looked at him sideways, frowning. He looked forward again as they walked, his sarcastically cocky expression recovered once more, “You literally just saw the guys not even ten minutes ago.”

“Who says I’m talking to one of the guys?”

“What, you mean to say you got a girlfriend or somethin’?”

“Maybe I do.”

His brother looked at him again, a dramatic stare that told Osamu he didn't believe him one bit. Osamu shrugged, “Well, I could.”

“You don't. I bet money on it.”

“Ouch.”

The silence stretched out before them, chill and empty. The sun had already set, meaning it was decently dark outside as the harsh winter air prickled their skin. The only sound was the crunching of snow beneath their feet. It definitely wasn't a comfortable silence. Osamu muttered, refusing to look at Atsumu again, “I was just talking to Suna. He lost a shirt or somethin’.”

“You talk to Suna a lot,” Atsumu commented, trying to sound like it was an indifferent observation. But instead there was a hint of bitterness.

It took Osamu a few seconds to respond. _Crunch, crunch, crunch_. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’. He just… Well, he’s yer friend, and he's in your class. Makes sense.”

Osamu quirked an eyebrow, “You’re not makin’ it sound like nothing.”

Atsumu glanced away to the street beside them like he was reluctant to continue, “Well, okay… I just don't think Suna likes me all that much. And he’s closer to you. That's all I’m sayin’.”

“I don't think anyone likes ya all that much, scrub.”

When Atsumu looked down at his feet, his eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly, Osamu felt a twinge of regret in his chest. He gave a humorless laugh regardless, “Yeah, I don't care.” It was a blatant lie. “Right back at ya, emo bitch.”

Osamu didn't address it immediately, like he would any time else. After a pause that felt like far too long, he stopped walking. Atsumu was a few steps ahead when he stopped too, turning back but failing to meet his brother’s eyes. Osamu blinked at him for a heartbeat, contemplating what he wanted to say. “ _I think it might be best to just tell him. Like ripping off a bandaid. He’d take it better if you get it all out in the open instead of leaving it subtle for him to find out himself sooner or later, you know?_ ”

Instead he asked, “What's up with you?”

Atsumu finally dragged his gaze to him. He smirked, but it wasn't careless as usual, “Whaddya mean? I’m fine.”

“Are you still hung up over the spring tourney?” Osamu knew full well that wasn't it.

“Nah,” Atsumu shrugged, shaking his head. “It was a fun game. One of the best games I’ve played.”

He looked like he was biting his tongue, like he was holding something back. Osamu narrowed his eyes, “Spit it out. What’s wrong?”

Atsumu glared back, his grin faltering as the intensity of his eyes contrasted his attempt at a casual smile. He had a look plastered all over his face, like he really wanted to just blurt something out. Osamu knew the look. It was rare, since he was such a loudmouthed bastard with no sense of what should or shouldn't be said. But he knew it. It meant something was really getting to him. Atsumu said with a subtle poison in his tone, “I told you, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” but his expression told a different story. “Not to mention it's fucking cold. Can we get a move on now?”

Osamu studied him a second longer. The string around his heart tightened just a bit more. Without a word, he finally began to walk again, and Atsumu soon fell into step right by his side. Physically they were together, but right now there was a gaping distance between them. They were back to their quiet shuffling. The tension was deafening. _Crunch, crunch, crunch_.

“I know how ya work,” Osamu said as emotionless as he could. All the words unspoken threatened to choke him. “If you _are_ thinkin’ about something, you might as well just tell me.”

Atsumu’s jaw was set, and there was a flicker of something different in his eyes. “That makes two of us then.”

He blinked, rolling his brother’s words over in his head. Osamu opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He looked at Atsumu again as a pit in his stomach hardened. But Atsumu only glared forward, his attempt to cover up his anger thrown away completely. The guilt gripped Osamu’s heart as he too looked ahead, a crash of regret keeping him quiet. This time, the crunching of snow felt bearable compared to the silent, painful conversation between them.

\-----

“ _ncredible! Argentine setter José Blanco has been a heavy hitter this entire game, and even in the fifth set his tosses are exceptional!_ ”

“ _You gotta give to him, Blanco is definitely an inspiration to many for his persistence. I get chills just watching him._ ”

“ _You two make it sound like you want Argentina to win! What’s up with that?_ ”

Osamu heard Atsumu huff, leaning back on his arms and staring up at the TV, “He’s not _that_ cool.”

“Whaddya mean, he’s dominating this match today,” Osamu didn't look up from the book he had to read for school, tapping a finger against the side of it. Laying on his back on the couch, he mindlessly kicked out one of his legs.

“Well, sure,” Atsumu lifted an arm to the TV, gesturing to the pro in question as they showed him on the program. “But he isn't doing anything _cool_. I mean I guess it's pretty impressive he’s still landing perfect tosses this far, but he’s just giving the spikers the exact sets they want.”

Osamu looked up in thought, his eyebrows furrowing. “Isn't that exactly what he needs to do?” he said slowly. “I thought that's literally the job of a great setter.”

Atsumu turned to him, slightly annoyed, “Yes, but he’s not pushin’ his spikers. He does the same set every time and it's boring to watch.” He faced the screen again, leaning over to reach for his own ball, “Y’know, if _I_ was him-”

“I don't think ya have the right to compare yourself to actual pro players,” Osamu said as he flicked a few pages in his book to see how much he had left. “And they ain't playing for your entertainment. They're playing to win, ‘n because they like playin’.”

“But what’s the point of playing if you don't do anythin’ fun or exciting?” Atsumu spun the ball around on the carpet, waiting for the program to pick up again as the Argentina team took a timeout. “Volleyball’s boring if you do the same things every time, even if you're perfect at it.”

Osamu shrugged, closing his book since he wasn't really reading it now and he didn’t really care at this point, “I guess you're right.”

“Hey ‘Samu, when we become pros, we’ll be on the same team right?”

He didn't respond at first, laying the book on his chest as he watched Atsumu pick up the ball and throw it in the air. He looked at Osamu expectantly, with a smile playing on his lips. Osamu lifted an eyebrow with a frown, “I sure hope not. I wanna kick your butt on the court one of these days.”

“Whaaaat?”

“You heard me.”

Atsumu threw the ball at him, but Osamu caught it before it landed. Atsumu brought his knees closer, tilting his head, “But what if we were on the same team? Wouldn't that be cool?” He looked up, as if the thought just popped in his head, “I’d wanna go against the Tachibana Red Falcons! Ohhh, but what if we went to the Olympics together?”

Placing the ball on top of the book, Osamu said, “Don't you wanna do something else though? What happened to you being a police officer?”

“Well I didn't know I liked volleyball when I said I wanted to be a police officer,” he shrugged. He blinked at Osamu, asking, “Why would I want to do something else? Do _you_ want to do something else?”

Osamu only stared back at him, staying silent as he thought it through. Atsumu had asked it like it was obvious, like he was so sure about what he wanted that he assumed Osamu should've felt the same way. He looked at the ceiling, mulling it over in his head. “Well… I guess I don't know,” he said finally. “I mean, I can't think of anything else.”

“See?” laughed Atsumu. “We’ll be the first siblings on the Japan Olympic team, wouldn't that be cool?”

“I guess so.”

“Well I _know_ so.”

“Whatchya boys up to?” Grandpa walked in the living room from the hallway, clearly having just come back inside after yard work due to the sweat on his face.

Atsumu grinned, putting one of his missing teeth proudly on display, “‘Samu and I are gonna go to the Olympics!”

Grandpa smiled back, wiping his forehead with the cloth he kept with him, “Aw really? You guys are gonna get all the way to the Olympics, are ya?”

The twins nodded together, and Atsumu extra confirmed with a hum. Osamu couldn’t help but notice how Atsumu’s eyes seemed to shine thinking about it. He wondered if his eyes should be shining too, or if that's just how his brother was. Atsumu then asked, “Grandpa, why didn't you ever become a pro player?”

He put his hands on his hips, “Ah, I only played volleyball as a hobby, just a sport to do durin’ school to get my body movin’. I wasn't all that good at it neither.” Grandpa pointed between them, chuckling, “You boys better be pros on my behalf, okay? If that's what you wanna do, of course. There ain't no shame in wantin’ to do something else even if yer good at it.”

Atsumu was pulled back to the TV as the announcers on the screen opened up the continuation of the game. Osamu watched it too, thinking through Grandpa’s last sentence. Did he want to do something else? It would make sense for them both to do volleyball till he grew old, since they were clearly good at it and Osamu really did love playing, but…

“Yeah. I wanna play volleyball.”

Atsumu’s confident words pulled Osamu from his thoughts. He was staring up at the TV, like he couldn't look away. Osamu couldn't see his eyes, but he could only guess they were still shining. He couldn't understand how his brother could be so sure. He glanced up at the ceiling again, feeling the volleyball beneath his hands. The only thing he could envision himself doing in the future was volleyball, but even then the image wasn't clear. There wasn’t really anything else he could think of doing in its place. That must mean he wanted to play pro too, right?

“Yeah, me too,” he said, though not nearly as certain as his brother did. He decided not to think too hard about it anymore. Maybe in the future Atsumu won't be so sure along with him. He’ll figure it out one day, that kind of stuff was what adults thought about. While the image of Atsumu and his shining, excited eyes still hung in the back of his mind, he lifted the volleyball again and aimed at his brother’s head.

\-----

The dinner table was far too quiet. Though Osamu munched away on the meal Mom had cooked that night, he could feel the occasional glance from Atsumu as he went. He only stared at his plate, trying to focus on the food. It helped. He’d rather stuff his face than address the elephant in the room that threatened to charge at him any second now.

Grandpa grunted, picking up his napkin. He looked between the twins, then at Mom as he wiped his mouth. Osamu saw him raise his eyebrow questioningly out of the corner of his eye. Mom sighed quietly, then asked, “Atsumu, Osamu… how was school?”

Another glance. Atsumu said flatly through a full mouth, “It was all right.” Osamu only nodded in agreement, taking another bite of the stew. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

There was a pause before their mother said, “And practice?”

“All right too.”

Osamu lifted his head as he reached for his cup of water. As much as he tried not to, his gaze flicked to Atsumu, and he immediately regretted it since his brother’s expression was dark and boring into him. He sipped his water in silence. Guilt and anger wriggled in his chest, but he tried to ignore it.

Mom pursed her lips, her fingers fidgeting with the napkin, “It's almost the end of the year, huh? Few more months to go?” This time she was met with only two sets of nodding heads. Osamu shovelled in more food. Mom continued, pressing on, “Heard you guys are already starting graduation preparations, career counseling ‘n stuff?”

This made both twins freeze. Osamu swallowed his food, but didn't replace it with more, meanwhile Atsumu simply kept his spoon on the table. Atsumu finally said, with only a quick look at Osamu, “Yeah. We are. Me and ‘Samu got our preliminary appointments next week.”

Mom smiled warily, flicking between the twins with a concerned look, “Ah! That's great! Any ideas what you wanna do? If you guys are going to college, a heads up would be very nice.”

Atsumu tilted his head, hesitating to speak. Osamu knew what he was doing, and he wasn't going to fall for it. If he was going to tell him, it wouldn't be while he was pissed, in front of Mom and Grandpa no less. Narrowing his eyes, Atsumu said, “I’m not sure about college, y’know. I think we’re just gonna try to go pro, like Aran. Right, Osamu?”

He used his full name, not the nickname. Osamu only stared back at his brother, who challenged him with his eyes. _‘Say it. Say you don't wanna. Do it, I can take it._ ’

He wouldn't play this game. “Right,” he said lowly.

Atsumu’s eyebrows twitched, his frown deepening. He took up his cup, and Osamu thought that was that. Until he muttered before taking a sip, “Fuckin’ liar.”

“Atsumu,” Grandpa spoke up scoldingly before Osamu could smack him like he wanted to. “You don’t use that language at the table.”

“Sorry, Grandpa,” he said quickly, putting his cup down. He looked right at his brother, leaning back in his chair.

Osamu bristled, the intensity in his own eyes rising, “What’s that mean?” He knew what it meant.

“You tell me,” he gestured, clearly refusing to say it himself. He looked expectant. ‘ _Just say it already, coward._ ’

“Boys, what’s going on here?” Mom asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Atsumu smiled the most passive aggressive way, “Don't worry, Mama, ‘Samu’s gonna tell ya all about it.”

“Just shut up, you dickhead,” Osamu put his spoon down, refusing to break eye contact in the mini battle they were fighting.

“Osamu!”

“Sorry.”

Grandpa sighed in frustration, shaking his head, “What's gotten into you two now, huh?”

Mom looked at Osamu, though he could tell she was nearing her wits end as well, “Is there something wrong?”

‘ _Say it already. C’mon, get it over with._ ’

“Nothin’s wrong, Mom.”

Atsumu leaned forward, his expression deadly, saying louder than before, “You’re a dirty liar, ‘Samu.”

“Hey now-”

Osamu leaned forward too, “Whaddya wanna say, ‘Tsumu?”

“Boys, please-”

“I’m sayin’ you're a liar,” Atsumu was physically restraining himself from launching at his brother. “A big fat liar. Just tell me, fucking say it already.”

“Boys!”

Osamu didn't respond, only stared down Atsumu with just as much restraint tightening his limbs. They both ignored the shouts from their grandfather. Atsumu pulled an eyebrow up, “What? Don't think I can handle it, is that it? Go fuck yourself, ‘Samu. Run off to Suna all ya want, I don't care, you clearly don't need me anymore.”

“This is exactly why I didn't wanna say anything, dumbass!” Osamu almost threw his arms up in exasperation, but if he did so he’d probably smack Atsumu anyway. “‘Cause you were gonna get all pissy and angry, and over what?”

“You know why, dammit.”

“No, I really don't.”

“Can fucking someone please tell me what's going on?” Mom yelled in interruption, making them both turn their heads. The pounding in Osamu’s ears began to calm, and both twins relaxed their bodies - but only enough so they weren’t at the edge of their seats ready to pounce.

Atsumu scoffed, gesturing his hand to their mother with a quieter voice, “Might as well say it now, genius.”

He rolled his eyes, the anger bubbling in his chest. The grip of guilt around his heart seemed to squeeze harder, and the tension around them wanted to suffocate him. Osamu said at his plate, trying to lower his voice as well, “I don't think I want to do volleyball after high school.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Atsumu sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Shut up.”

Grandpa looked a bit dumbfounded, “That’s what yer all mad about?”

The twins only stayed silent. Osamu could feel his heartbeat thumping, the truth settling in the air. For a moment Mom and Grandpa weren't there. Osamu met Atsumu’s gaze again, and his brother’s expression had now gone unreadable. What was he feeling? Hurt? Relieved? Confused? He dropped his eyes.

“Osamu, what were you thinking instead of volleyball?” Mom asked softly, obviously trying to calm the situation down.

It took him a few seconds to answer. “Well… I was just thinkin’ about, um… openin’ my own restaurant.”

Atsumu had nothing to say as he too looked at the table. Mom smiled a bit, “Oh honey, that sounds wonderful. How much have you thought through it?”

Osamu swallowed, hooking his fingers around the sleeves of his jacket, “A lot. It really seems like somethin’ I could do. Been thinking about it for a year now.” Saying it out loud felt wrong, it felt more childish and impractical than he thought. What was worse, it felt more like a confession of a deep dark secret than plans for his future.

“A year, huh,” Atsumu said, emotionless. “I was expectin’ longer.”

He hadn't looked at Osamu, instead stared ahead at the wall behind Mom. Osamu frowned, “I only really started looking into it a few months ago.”

“So you talked to Suna about it?”

It was like an interrogation, like he was admitting to doing something wrong. It definitely felt like he did something wrong, but Osamu couldn't explain why. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else?”

“Nah.”

Atsumu nodded slowly, still refusing to look at him. He asked in a low voice, “What took ya so long to talk to me?”

He didn't have an answer. At least not one that felt right. _I didn't wanna piss you off. I still had to think it through some more. I didn't wanna admit that I…_

Osamu looked down, a wave of shame flowing over him. It started to frustrate him, not being able to explain these emotions. He said, hushed, “I dunno.”

Atsumu tilted his head back, but still stared forward. Osamu couldn’t tell what he was feeling behind his tense mask of deep thought. He kept asking, “How sure are you about this?”

“I’m just thinkin’ about it.”

“Liar.”

Atsumu was right. He was fairly sure. The arguments were unspoken, Osamu knew full well what they were: He wasn't guaranteed success, it was an extremely big risk. At least with volleyball his chance was clear, and he was very good at what he did. It would take time and money to start a business, not to mention possible college. He didn't know anyone who had done something like this before and he didn’t quite know where to start, so he was on his own to figure it out. He knew all of it. But he also knew he made his mind a while ago, and as much as it was all unknown, he’d been willing to take the risks.

And even more unspoken, even further in the back of his mind, the heart of the tension and fear between the two of them… For the first time, he wouldn't have Atsumu at his side. 

Osamu drew his shoulders in slightly. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. Mom and Grandpa had gone silent, probably knowing this was more a conversation between the twins and not them for the time being. But Osamu was already done.

Atsumu said, breaking the silence, “You don't think you can make it, is that it?”

“What?”

Finally, Atsumu looked at him, a fire reignited in his eyes, “You’re doubtin’ yourself, you don't think you’d be able to go pro. I just don't understand how you can throw everything away like that.”

Osamu blinked at him, confusion filtering through his expression, “I ain't throwin’ away nothing-”

“You’ve trained for years and you're a good player, ‘Samu,” Atsumu insisted. “You can't just go off on your own and-”

“Why can't I, huh?”

He didn't have a straight answer. “Well… You just can't! What's so wrong with stickin’ to what you're good at?”

Osamu took a deep breath, feeling himself getting angrier again. Mom and Grandpa watched as he pushed his chair out and stood up, saying as he pushed it back in, “You think we're just… expected to keep playing. What's so wrong with doing somethin’ that makes you happy instead of somethin’ you're expected to?”

Atsumu looked offended, his eyes flashing, “Volleyball doesn't make you happy?”

“Well, I’m not sayin’ it doesn't-”

“Since when are we expected to do anything?”

“I’m just thinkin’ for-”

“What's so wrong with doing something we’re expected to if we’re good at it and it makes us happy? What happened to making Kita proud?

Osamu closed his eyes, “Will you shut up for five seconds?!” To his surprise, Atsumu did so, though not without a glare. He took in another deep breath, then looked at him with as much confidence as he could muster, “Look. I’m serious about this. I’ve told you I don't think about volleyball the same way as you. I don't want to do something everyone expects me to when I just don't have a passion like you do, okay? Food makes me happy, ‘Tsumu, and volleyball makes _you_ happy just the same. I can make Kita proud in other ways, and don't you tell me I can't.”

Atsumu paused, his chest noticeably rising and falling. It was subtle, but Osamu could spot a hint of desperation in his eyes. “I don't get how you could go off all alone instead of something you're guaranteed happiness and success in-”

“You don't have to fucking understand!”

Mom quietly said in a warning tone, “Osamu…”

Atsumu’s eyes had widened, and his mouth opened to say something. He gritted his teeth instead, huffing as a dark look had returned to his face. Osamu glared, his hands gripping the back of his chair, “I’m gonna say this once. Go off and be a pro, or don't, I don't care. But I’m certain about this, and there's nothin’ you can do about it.”

“But-”

“No.”

His anger had melted to hopelessness, “‘Samu, just please listen-”

“I’m not going with you, Atsumu.”

The moment it left his mouth, Osamu was surprised by himself. He looked away, sliding his hands from the chair. Thousands of emotions flowed through him, and he hated it. What he hated most was the relief he felt after those words. It was gross and not right, but at the same time, the feeling of having made up his mind like this, having finally put into words what he’d been wanting to get through to his brother… it was a weight off his shoulders. But just as evident was the intense urge to take it all back. The truth was alleviating - but it was harsher and more painful than Osamu ever expected.

Atsumu was in shock, his mouth gaping open. His eyebrows had pulled together, but not in an angry way - the hurt was plastered all over his face. He stood too, hesitating by the table. Osamu tensed himself for a punch or a slap or arms pushing him back. But Atsumu just charged out of the room, brushing right past Osamu, with Mom calling after him, “Atsumu, please hold on…!”

He ignored her and just kept walking, wrenching open the door and stomping away. Osamu stood quietly as they listened to the front door open and slam shut again, leaving the room uncomfortably quiet. As much as he didn't think it would, the string of guilt that threatened to crush Osamu had disappeared, leaving only an empty hole of realization. Just like ripping off a bandaid, Suna had said? Osamu wished it was that easy. It was more like a bullet to the head.

“I… I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” Osamu said quietly, almost like he didn't have the strength to be louder.

“Okay,” Mom was just as gentle with her words. “Goodnight, honey.”

Osamu’s footsteps felt heavy as he moved for the door, “Night.”

\-----

“Alrighty then, class, attention up here, please!” Junto-sensei called, making the blabbering of the junior high class hush down. “Now, for this next activity, you’re gonna go find a partner - don’t go just yet, give me a second here.”

As he went on to explain the assignment, Atsumu poked Osamu’s back. Osamu glanced behind, hissing, “What’s it this time?”

“We’re partnering up right?” Atsumu smiled, poking him again.

Osamu rolled his eyes, then waved his hand dismissively without an answer. He hadn’t turned back to face the teacher again for long when he was jabbed between the shoulder blades, and this time it hurt. Osamu turned and smacked his brother’s hand, “Quit it.”

“Miya?”

“Yes?” both twins said at once.

Junto sighed, “The one in front.”

“I’m Osamu.”

“Yes, that’s the one I’m talkin’ to,” he shook his head in exasperation. “Still can’t believe they put ya both in my class. Anyway, is there a problem, Osamu?”

Osamu shook his head, having nothing to say. He heard Atsumu snicker behind him, and if he wasn’t being spoken to by a teacher, he would’ve turned back around to smack his face this time around.

“I’ll need ya both to keep yer hands to yourself,” their teacher pushed up his glasses, “or else you’ll both be gettin’ detention - again.”

This time it was a few students around the class who laughed. While Osamu only blinked ahead unfazed, Atsumu piped up, “Aw, c’mon! Ya make it sound like we’re delinquents, Junto-sensei!”

Junto smiled a bit, “You two might as well be, some partners in crime if I’ve ever seen it.” He lifted a hand, “I kid, I kid. But seriously, please pay attention, boys.”

“Yes sir.”

He went on to explain the rest of the assignment - something about rocks and identifying important traits with another classmate. By the time he was done, he said, “Now, I’m going to let you choose your partner, but I do believe there’ll be a group of three for this class. Choose wisely so you can work focused and in a timely manner, since this first part is due by the end of the day. You’ll be working on this whole project the next two days as well, so make sure yer partner is someone you can depend on.” He lifted his hands out dramatically, “Go forth, kiddos.”

The class erupted in chatter of people deciding their partners. Osamu half expected to be pulled or prodded by his brother once more, but before he had the chance, a voice to his right interrupted Atsumu’s inevitable advance, “Hey, Osamu?”

Looking over, he was met with the face of Akiyama Umeko, a girl with pigtails and a beauty mark on her left cheek. She was one of the smartest girls in the class, if Osamu remembered correctly. He blinked at her, “Uh, what?”

She smiled sweetly, asking in a casual tone, “Wanna be partners?”

“Why?” It was Atsumu who spoke. Osamu turned to see his brother, his smile on his lips normal but his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

Akiyama shrugged, seeming to not think much on Atsumu’s comment, “Well, my other two friends are gonna be partners, ‘n you and Osamu are always workin’ together. Maybe a change would be nice?” She looked away, “I mean, you can say no…”

“I don’t care,” Osamu shook his head. His gaze flicked away from hers every now and then. How was she so good at eye contact?

It took a few seconds for Atsumu to speak up again, “Wait, for real?”

Osamu shrugged, “I mean… Well she’s right, we always work together. And she don’t have a partner either.”

There was a change in Atsumu’s expression, just a flash of something else behind his eyes. He glanced at Akiyama, then back to Osamu with a wary smile, “Well, I guess.”

“I’ll take good care of yer brother,” Akiyama laughed. Osamu couldn’t help the flustered worm in his stomach. She smiled at him, and Osamu looked down as he half-smiled too.

Atsumu looked between them a few times. He nodded slowly as he stood up, chuckling, “Right, well, uh… Try not to melt, ‘Samu, she’s depending on ya now.”

“Oh, shut yer face,” he snapped back. But when Osamu caught a glimpse of Atsumu’s set jaw and lingering gaze, he was struck with the feeling that Atsumu wasn’t a fan of this. _What a crybaby_ , he scoffed in his head. Just because a girl didn’t ask to be partners with him didn’t mean he had to be all jealous.

After Atsumu had turned to try and find another partner, Akiyama left to go collect the materials for their collaborative project. Together they followed the directions and worked out identifying the different rock samples based on their characteristics, and Osamu found the experience quite enjoyable given how focused Akiyama was. Had he been working with Atsumu, they would’ve been butting heads the entire time, but Akiyama was able to draw conclusions and get work done quite easily. The downside, though, was that every time she looked at him or asked what he thought, he was awkward and stiff with all his responses.

Osamu noticed that Atsumu had ended up in the group of three, with Mitsuaki and Ogawa, two boys who both the twins considered friends, at the very least acquaintances. Every time Osamu looked over, he seemed to be having a good time, he cracked his sarcastic jokes and a cocky smile was perpetually on his lips. He was glad Atsumu had gotten over it so easily.

“Hey, aren’t you and Atsumu in volleyball?” Akiyama asked him as they finished up the worksheet together.

Osamu nodded, “Uh, yeah, why?”

She tapped her chin in thought, “Well, I always thought it was a girl sport.”

“What?” Osamu tilted his head, frowning. “I mean, it’s not, guys play it too. Haven’t ya seen the Olympics?”

“Yeah, but my older brother always wants to watch things like.. I dunno, football and swimmin’.” Akiyama always was genuinely invested whenever she asked a question about him, which made his chest almost bubble with glee, “How’d you get into volleyball?”

“My grandpa,” Osamu lifted a hand to the back of his neck. “He played in high school and thought we’d like it too.”

Akiyama nodded in recognition, humming. She asked, lowering her voice, “I’m sure Atsumu’s as much of a showoff there as he is in class, right?”

Shaking his head, Osamu looked down at his hands as they pulled on his jacket cuffs, “You got no idea.” He glanced back to where his brother was. Their eyes met for just a second, but Atsumu quickly pulled his gaze away. Something odd rolled in his stomach.

“Honestly, how do ya deal with him on a daily basis?” Akiyama asked as she finished writing the last sentence of their conclusion. She laughed a bit, “I mean, he’s funny sometimes, but I swear he’s got some… narcissism complex.”

Eyebrows twitching together, Osamu cautiously asked, “What’s that mean?”

She shrugged, “He’s got confidence up the wazoo and he’s always braggin’ about whatever score he got on a test. I just don’t know how ya live with that, I mean he’s kinda a jerk.”

Osamu couldn’t place why he suddenly felt angry. He stared at her a few seconds, almost glaring. But he said anyway, “Right. I dunno either.”

Akiyama blinked, surprised at Osamu’s expression. She said slowly, “Uh, did that make you mad? I wasn’t tryin’ to be rude, I just thought…“

He shook his head, “You’re… fine.” He looked away, the flustering and bubbly happiness he felt earlier completely disappeared in a snap. Osamu shouldn’t care, she was right after all. But there was something so cold and mean about the way she spoke about Atsumu. Though at the same time, it puzzled him why _he_ got mad on Atsumu’s behalf. It was one thing for their entire team to talk smack about Atsumu behind both of their backs, but it was something different having one of his classmates say it, _to Osamu_ no less.

The bell rang loud above them. “Have a good day, everyone, and make sure to turn in your worksheet, even if it’s not finished,” Junto called out to the class as they all collected their things. “I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

Without a word, Akiyama stood to go turn in their paper. Osamu watched as she went, then let his gaze drop to the desk. Before he could think much about it, though, there was a tap on his right shoulder. He turned, but nobody was there. When he felt another tap on his left shoulder, he realized what was happening. “Jeez, ‘Tsumu, quit it.”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” he hummed as he clipped shut his pencil case and put it in his bag. Osamu did the same, though he kept his head down. His brother paused before he asked just as teasing, “So how was yer day with Akiyama? Ya didn’t embarrass yourself too badly, didja?”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “It was fine,” he grumbled, zipping his bag closed. He stood and began walking away without waiting for his brother. It felt strange to look at him after all the things Akiyama so casually said.

Atsumu rushed to catch up with him after having been left behind, complaining, “Hey, speed racer, wait for me, will ya?”

“Whatever,” Osamu scoffed.

There was another pause. As the two of them stepped out of the classroom and down the hallway, Atsumu asked tentatively, “Is somethin’ wrong?”

Osamu stared at his feet. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack as he contemplated telling Atsumu what she said or why he was mad. He said steadily, “Let’s… never get different partners again.”

He finally looked at his brother. His eyes were wide, surprised by Osamu’s words. Osamu almost cringed away from embarrassment. His brother’s expression soon melted to a teasing smile once again, “Awww, did she hurt yer feelin’s?”

“No, shut up.” He rolled his eyes, “She was just… mean. For no reason.”

“About what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“‘Samu, about what.”

“I said it don’t matter, okay?”

Atsumu gave up, only laughing as he faced forward again. There was a strange smile on his face as he said, “Yeah, I’m cool with that. At least when we work together, you get my jokes.”

“Yeah, they always suck.”

“Excuse me, I’m funny.”

“Hell no you aren’t.”

“I take it back, I’m never talkin’ to you again.”

“Screw you, I don’t wanna talk to you anyway.”

“So rude! Weren’t you just the one sayin’ you always wanna work with me?”

“I can handle stupidity, not rudeness.”

“I ain’t stupid!”

Osamu chuckled, looking away to hide his smile. There was a silence between them as they neared the locker rooms, but was comfortable this time. Atsumu finally said, quieter and more genuine, “Next time ya think of leaving me for a girl or somethin’, think about this.”

“Right,” Osamu muttered back. As Atsumu opened the door for him, musing an all too unoriginal joke of ‘ladies first’, Osamu felt almost relieved being by his side once again. He said as he stepped through the door, “Wouldja believe me if I told ya Akiyama thought volleyball was a girl’s game?”

\-----

The days, and even weeks, following the officiality of Osamu’s future plans were never quite the same. The entire morning after the blow up at the kitchen table, the twins refused to speak to each other at all. Suna didn’t press when he noticed Osamu was off that day, and he was very grateful for that. Osamu didn’t feel like relaying the events of that exhausting night. He didn’t sleep well, and he knew for a fact Atsumu didn’t either. But like the hours before the revelations, the silence was better than actually speaking. Unlike it, though, was the empty feeling in Osamu’s chest - there wasn’t guilt wrapped around his heart like a constricting snake, just… nothing. A dull, painful hole of nothing, like he was missing something. It ate away at him even if he didn’t know what it was. Atsumu had never felt so far away, and while he was so sure of his own decision, he couldn’t help the nagging voice in the back of his head that second-guessed everything he did.

The silent treatment boiled over just that afternoon, they blew up at each other again before the start of practice. But it wasn’t like all the other times they fought, not quite. Because this time, even if they grabbed the other’s collar and screamed in his face, they were miles apart. Neither seemed to have enough energy or anger to throw a punch. The remainder of the evening went just like the rest of the day - cold, rigid, and biting.

Wake up, make a half-hearted joke and give a half-hearted laugh, barely speak to one another as they walk to school, barely interact whatsoever during school, bark a jab about how ‘yer never hittin’ my tosses right, dumbass’ and hiss a retort like ‘well, your sets are dogshit since the tourney’ at practice, walk home in silence - soon don’t even walk home together at all because ‘I’ll stay after to clean up, you go ahead’ or ‘I got a lotta homework tonight, I’ll leave early’, eat dinner and pretend they can talk to one another, go to bed without even a ‘goodnight’. Rinse, repeat. It felt like each day was the same routine to Osamu. Every night he walked home alone, the outside air just got colder and colder.

When they were first introduced to volleyball, they were together. When they played their first game in a national competition, they were together. When their Granny died last year, they were together. When they struggled with loss, when they celebrated a win, when they both bombed a test, when they first learned how to ride a bike, when they laughed so hard over the same inside joke, when they stayed up all night talking about whatever dumb feelings or ideas they had, time and time again when they fought, even if physically they were apart like Atsumu’s All-Japan camp - they were together. 

But now more than ever Osamu had never felt more utterly alone.

So when the Inarizaki third years graduated on the last day of school, it felt like a punch to the gut. There they all stood in the gym, all wearing their school uniforms since practice was off for the break. Aran, Akagi, Omimi, and Kita, facing their teammates with their heads held high.

Coach nodded Kita, their captain, forward, and he stepped up as punctually and perfectly as he always seemed to do. Osamu held his breath, watching the way Kita’s eyes scanned each and every member. He took in a breath through his nose, then began to speak, “For the first two years of my high school career, I was nothin’ but a bench warmer. How I went from sideliner to the captain of a second place nationally ranked team… is somethin’ I’m still well thinkin’ about. I’ve always done what had to be done, the way it must be done, because that was my duty as a human. It was my way of showin’ appreciation to the world around me.” Kita looked above their heads, his expression calm, and even wistful, “Our motto always rubbed me the wrong way. But after seeing all of ya play, gettin’ to know each and every one of ya, and takin’ a step back to look ahead to the future… I realize that the future is only a product of the present. And while I’m still not entirely on board with the phrasin’, the past is only a foundation of the present. We can only go up from there. Whether we’re all together here ‘n now, or we’re miles apart on our own paths of life, if there’re any memories you shouldn’t disregard, it’s the ones that remind you to live in the moment and for the future. That’s what you all taught me, and I plan to take it with me wherever I go. So thank you very much, I wish you all the best.”

Aran chuckled from behind, wiping away a tear that slid down his cheek, “That was quite the speech ya had there, Cap.”

Kita nodded curtly, turning to him, “I thought some words of meanin’ would be a nice way to depart from the team.”

“Thank you, Kita-san!” Atsumu blurted, making Kita whip back around quickly in surprise. His eyes were glassy with tears, and before anyone knew it, he was bowing to their former captain.

There was a hesitant pause as everyone stared at Atsumu. Osamu looked down at his feet for just a moment as Suna quietly chuckled beside him. He took a deep breath before following Atsumu’s lead, yelling just as loudly, “Thank you, Kita-san!”

Kita blinked at them, starting, “You twins always gotta-”

“Thank you, Kita-san!” Ginjima did the same, almost falling because of how fast he bowed.

“Gin, I don’t know what-”

Suna sighed a bit before bowing too, “Thank you, Kita-san.”

A chorus of thanks sounded from beside the second years as the Inarizaki first years bowed too. Kita seemed at a loss for words, meanwhile Aran and Akagi laughed together at the display before them.

The team gradually stood back up, one by one straightening back out to face Kita again. Osamu finally caught a glimpse of Kita’s expression, and just like at the beginning of the year when he was named the captain, he had tears running down his face. A jolt ran through his spine. _Is he okay? We just said thank you…_ It was a nice reminder that Kita _wasn’t_ , in fact, a robot.

Kita smiled. That was almost more surprising than the tears, given how genuine and, truly, happy he looked. He turned to face Aran again without a word. Aran nodded at Kita’s silent question, saying quietly, “If yer happy, yer happy. There don’t gotta be a reason.”

It almost ached, how bittersweet Kita’s goodbye was. When he turned back to the team, wiping his face while his smile still remained, Osamu felt the hole in his chest gape even bigger as he slowly began realizing his time with Kita was too quickly nearing an end. Kita bowed back, his voice so subtly hoarse, “Thank you.”

‘ _Whether we’re all together here ‘n now, or we’re miles apart on our own paths of life, if there’re any memories you shouldn’t disregard, it’s the ones that remind you to live in the moment and for the future._ ’

Osamu half ran to catch up after Coach Kurosu finally released them all after a few end-of-the-year parting words, “Kita-san, hold on.”

Kita, who was just about to leave the gym with Aran, turned back. “What is it?” he asked flatly, hesitating by the door.

He didn’t quite know what to say - or, rather, how to say it. He glanced behind him, at Atsumu sharing a few words with Coach and the rest of the team patting each other on the back or laughing together as they moved to leave. Osamu let a breath out of his nose as he thought. This could be the last he saw of Kita while they were still on the same team, and he was so quickly slipping away.

“What are you doing after high school?” he finally asked, his eyebrows pulled together confidently.

Kita blinked, clearly not expecting this question. He glanced at Aran before saying as emotionless as ever, “I plan on helpin’ my family run our rice farm.”

Osamu spoke before he could think, “That’s all?”

“Of course that’s all,” Kita nodded, not thinking much of it.

He looked down in thought before asking once again, “How do you know it’ll make ya happy?”

Kita didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked behind Osamu for a few seconds before returning straight ahead. “Because it’s what _I_ wanna do,” he said, staring into Osamu’s eyes like he could see right through him.

Osamu sucked in a breath, standing straighter. He looked over his shoulder, and for a split second his gaze met Atsumu’s. His brother pulled his head away quickly, expression unreadable as he turned to walk the opposite direction. Osamu rotated back to face Kita slowly, thought clouding his eyes and mind. He dipped his head, “Thank you.”

…

Osamu shivered as he walked. His bag was empty but his shoulders felt heavy. He was far too mindful of the yearning ache in his heart as he thought over Kita’s words again and again. The street was barren and dark while the sun set, and even as the snow had finally begun to clear, the cold seeped through even Osamu’s track jacket that he threw on over his uniform. Despite the impact of Kita’s departing words, he didn’t know what to do with them. The unknown was killing him, the lack of reason or understanding felt so agonizing. He just wanted this dumb fued to be over, he wanted to just move on to accept his choices, and he wanted Atsumu to do the same.

What was he going to do? And how could he do it alone?

Will he really be happy? Or was this just some childish fantasy that could cost him everything, waste his life after high school? He had so many questions and not enough answers and he didn’t know what he needed to do to find them. 

He could try to call Suna for his opinions but Suna wouldn’t know, he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t understand because he was doing the same thing as Atsumu and Aran - he’d be going pro too. It was an unfortunate realization on Osamu’s behalf.

“ _Are you bein’ for real?_ ”

“ _Well I might as well. I think I got a chance, and volleyball is the one thing I’m good at._ ”

“ _Oh..._ ”

“ _I mean I still got another year to decide, so don’t overthink it too much, dumbass._ ”

His steps began going sluggish, he considered stopping right there. But Osamu continued on regardless, even though each step felt like he’d crack in two. The thoughts swam around his mind like dark, murky water, and Osamu wondered if he'd drown in it eventually. Something needed to be said, he knew, but what?

The chill air pulled on his shoulders. How was he going to fix this? He was being overdramatic, he knew he was. But for the first time, it felt like the world around him was crashing down faster than he could keep up, and for the first time, Atsumu wasn’t with him to face the unknown.

\-----

Osamu watched as Atsumu clung to their mother’s side, red faced and wildly looking around. He was about to cry.

“Mama, do I hafta go?” he worriedly asked, burying his face in her leg.

Mama let out a breath, a hurt smile on her lips. “Yes, honey,” she said softly.

“But I don’t wanna!” Atsumu’s voice was loud and shaky. “Why can’t I stay with Granny?”

Another small sigh. Mama let go of Osamu’s hand as she carefully got on her knees to be on Atsumu’s level. Osamu stayed silent, simply watching as Atsumu began crying. Mama hugged him, and his little arms gripped around her neck like he didn’t want to let go ever again. “Atsumu, Granny and Grandpa can’t watch you while I’m at work, ‘cause they have their own work to do,” she said, her voice soothing.

Atsumu couldn’t say anything else, he just cried and sniffled into Mama’s shoulder. Osamu wondered if he should be crying too. Mama did say it was only for a few hours until she picked them back up again from daycare, it didn’t seem too bad. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of his shirt as he watched in silence.

Mama pulled away, wiping Atsumu’s face with her hand. She had tears in her eyes too. Why was everyone crying? She cooed, “It’s okay, baby, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t wanna go,” he sniffled.

“Baby, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.” She smiled, “You got your brother right there with ya, right?”

Atsumu rubbed one of his eyes, “Yeah?”

“You two can do this together, okay? He’ll be with ya too, you’re not alone.”

He frowned, looking at the ground. Atsumu then looked up at Osamu, blinking a few times like he had to be sure he was there. Mama turned to Osamu as well, “Osamu, you’ll stay with him, right?”

Osamu took a few seconds to answer, “Yes, Mama.”

She smiled, wide and soft, “See? You guys got each other. Yer built in best friends, right?”

“Yeah…” Atsumu murmured.

Osamu quietly stepped over to his brother, then reached for his hand. “Don’t cry, it’s justa few hours,” he said flatly. “I’m here with ya.”

\-----

“Just shut up, for once!”

“Right back at ya! Yer nothin’ but a jerkface!”

“God, I wish you weren’t my brother.”

“Well I wish you were never born!”

The words hurt more than Osamu expected. “Jeez…” he huffed, quieter.

“I think the world would be a better place if you weren’t here,” Atsumu muttered, looking away. Osamu’s eyes widened. He didn’t sound like he meant it. But at the same time…

The argument went silent. Osamu didn’t realize he was crying until the tears dripped off his cheeks. He glared at his brother, his voice hoarse, “Screw you.”

Through the mask of anger, there were cracks of guilt in Atsumu’s expression. “Hey… I didn’t-”

“You did, I know you did!” Osamu tried to stop his voice from shaking, but it did anyway. What started as a frustrated argument over something Osamu couldn’t even remember was now something much more. “Maybe yer right, wouldn’t that be somethin’!”

“‘Samu, stop-”

“Wouldn’t it be real nice if I wasn’t here?”

“Wait-”

“I hate you, Atsumu.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to widen his eyes. It was also his turn for the tears to start spilling too. Osamu’s heart hurt, more than it ever had from what he could remember. He couldn’t stay here anymore, he was on the verge of completely breaking down. Osamu wiped his eyes as he headed for the door, just wanting to get away. He wanted to be alone. Maybe not having a brother _would_ be easier.

“Wait,” Atsumu had grabbed his sleeve from behind. Osamu tried to yank it away but his grip was surprisingly strong. 

Osamu turned to him, his throat scratchy, “Just go away.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was weak. Osamu’s breath stopped for a moment as Atsumu let out a few more sobs. When he let go of his shirt, Osamu didn’t walk away. Atsumu made himself small, looking away, “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, please don’t go.”

Osamu stared, frowning. He wiped his tear stained cheeks again, sighing. “Yer a jerk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Atsumu nodded. He blinked up at his brother, “I don’t wish you weren’t born, okay? Just don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

Atsumu looked down, the tears springing back up again. “I’m really, really sorry,” he whispered.

He considered, balling his fists at his sides and letting them go limp. “You’re a big baby.”

He didn’t answer. Osamu sighed, rolling his eyes, “Fine, I’ll stay here, just don’t say that ever again.”

It was small, fleeting, but Atsumu just barely smiled. “Deal.”

\-----

Osamu couldn’t think. All he was focused on was the ball, currently in the hands of one of Itachiyama’s middle blockers as he prepared for a serve. It was set three, finals of the interhigh tournament of the twins’ second year. If Itachiyama scored this point, they won.

“Don’t freak out on me, ‘Samu,” muttered Atsumu from beside him.

Osamu cast a glance at Sakusa Kiyoomi, the deadliest spiker they faced this entire tournament. He was staring straight ahead, but he was clearly as tense as anyone else. “Wasn’t countin’ on it,” he said back as the ref blew the whistle.

The serve was immediately on time. It was a floater. Everything moved in slow motion as Osamu jumped forward. _Get under it. Hit it back to ‘Tsumu, or maybe Akagi._ He watched it hit the net and begin its descent to the floor. _If I hit it to ‘Tsumu he could set right there. Maybe if I’m quick enough I can back up and spike, they wouldn’t see that comin’_.

Osamu used two hands to hit behind him, angling his arms to the right. “‘Tsumu!” he called, whipping his head back to watch.

The receive went wide. _Fuck!_

But Atsumu charged after it anyway. He put all his energy into running after it, crossing over the lines of the court with ease. It was like he’d set the ball if it was the last thing he did. The crowd, both the Inarizaki cheer brigade as well as what felt like thousands of watchers in the audience, went nuts as Atsumu leaped, twisting midair to just get under the ball. It was incredibly, unbelievably, mind-blowingly stupid. With his back parallel to the floor as he flew, Atsumu used all his strength to lug the ball back to the court.

As Atsumu landed on the ground with a loud tumble, the crowd went insane. Kita dived forward once it crossed the lines and began falling again, hitting it at just the right angle that it went over the net. The players on Itachiyama were purely shocked, one of them even yelled, “What the heck was that?!”

“I’m okay!” Atsumu screamed as he quickly got back up. What an absolute idiot.

Osamu’s gaze flicked around the other side of the court. _Sakusa coming from the back, Yorisho is there on right - could be a fluke- definitely a fluke._ The setter was right in front of Osamu as the ball was hit in his direction. _Prepare for a dump. No, he wouldn’t dump. He’s gonna use the left, he’s using Sakusa to keep us middle, a decoy._ Suna was on the same page. Both of them began leaning to the left. The setter got his fingers on the ball, his hands moving to go behind him. It looked like it was going left. It wasn’t going left.

“Shit!” Osamu jumped back as Sakusa attacked from behind. It was slow motion again. He could see it as he went; he wouldn’t be able to block him out. Just as he tried to stretch his body, his eyes only on the ball, he felt the exhaustion in his bones. It wasn’t a good jump.

A body smacked into him, flinging himself to help on Osamu’s right. Just as Sakusa slammed the ball, both the Miya twins got their hands on it. It wasn’t a shutout though, it flew behind them, and Osamu nearly fell on top of his brother as he yelled, “One touch!”

Everything was spinning as Atsumu fell to the ground below him. It took a lot in him not to fall as well, given how shaky his legs were. He whipped around, his eyes searching for the ball.

The whistle rang out, loud and shrill. The crowd exploded, and Osamu was left blinking around. He looked back to Itachiyama’s side, seeing them all shocked, smiling, laughing, running to each other. “ _Shit_ ,” Atsumu hissed, low and angry, at Osamu’s feet.

It took a few more seconds for Osamu to realize. Akagi, laying on the ground a meter from the end of the court, smacked his fist on the ground. The ball was ahead of him. Akagi had dived to get it, and failed. They lost.

Osamu lifted his hands to his face, closing his eyes and allowing himself to breathe. In the heat of the adrenaline, he didn’t really feel anything. But oh, did it already begin to ache, subtle and deep within him.

“ _Shit!_ ” Atsumu growled a second time. He tried lifting himself up, but his arms shook, making him fall. Osamu let out a breath, reaching to lean down to help him, though soon enough his legs couldn’t keep him standing. He fell back on his ass, and any other time it’d be embarrassing, but right now he didn’t really care.

As the crowd cheered on and Itachiyama rejoiced, Osamu whispered, “You didn’t give yourself a concussion, didja?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

Aran called from behind them, “Twins? Can ya stand?”

They thought for a minute. “No,” they said in unison.

They both got help to stand as they met Itachiyama at the net, going along and shaking everyone’s hand. Osamu watched as Atsumu death glared Sakusa, and the curly haired ace didn’t seem to pay any mind. He was instead highly disturbed as Aran offered his thanks, taking a deep breath before he hastily shook the opposing ace’s hand. He pulled away quickly, wiping his hand on his jersey. Aran’s face screwed up in confusion, meanwhile Atsumu scoffed a bitter laugh at the display before them. When Atsumu pulled away from the net to head over to them, Osamu put out a hand on his chest, “Don’t.”

“Let go,” he pushed Osamu away and charged forward again. This would end badly.

He mused, though the anger was dripping with every word, “Heyyy Sakusa-kun!”

Sakusa narrowed his eyes. “What?” he asked, flat and uncaring.

Atsumu may have been smiling sweetly, but his eyes were intense, sharp. He leaned into the net, “That was a good game. Well done winnin' nationals."

Without a response, Sakusa only nodded, looking Atsumu up and down worriedly. Osamu sighed, beginning his way over to his brother. “Hey dumbass,” he said, firm. He placed a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, “We gotta go line-”

“Shake my hand,” Atsumu requested, completely ignoring Osamu. He held his hand out from below the net, making Sakusa eye it with an unreadable expression.

Osamu knew where this was going. “Yo, ‘Tsumu, let’s-”

“Just let me shake his fucking hand,” Atsumu didn’t rip his gaze away from Sakusa.

Sakusa frowned, his brow furrowing as his dark, deep eyes flicked from Atsumu’s outstretched hand and his face, then back again. He let out a breath, locking his gaze with Atsumu for a solid two seconds before turning away to line up with his own team. Even Osamu could admit he felt a sting at the blatant refusal.

Atsumu yanked his hand away, gripping into a fist. “I fucking knew it,” he growled, his disguise of nice guy being wiped clean as he stared daggers into the back of Sakusa’s head.

“‘Tsumu-”

“Asshole couldn’t even shake my hand.”

“It’s not all about you, idiot,” Osamu said as Atsumu stormed away to line up. He knew it was useless though. With an angry grunt, he followed.

The time after the game was a blur. They bowed, said thank you to the cheer squad. They all headed out of the stadium together, not hanging around too long for interviews. An interviewer did stop the twins though, and both of them had to fake neutrality instead of the disappointment and frustration that boiled their blood. Osamu didn’t really remember what he said either as they all got on the bus to head to their hotel for the night, since they’d leave in the morning. He stared out the window at the evening town, not thinking about much at all.

The twins went straight to their room. Atsumu tossed his bag on the bed and Osamu simply set his down, though not without an angry stiffness of his actions. Osamu watched as his brother sat down, rubbing his face. He felt the need to say something but he didn’t know what.

“This fucking sucks,” Atsumu mumbled into his palms.

Osamu huffed a small chuckle, “You’re tellin’ me.”

Letting his hands drop, Atsumu stared blankly at the wall in front of him. Neither spoke. They didn’t have to speak. Osamu zipped open his jacket as he made his way over, plopping himself on his brother’s side. Together they stared at their reflection in the TV, with droopy eyes and hunched backs. They didn’t say another word to each other after that for the rest of the night, not out of anger, just a quiet understanding as they mourned their failure. Simply the presence of the other was enough for them to sleep that night, exhausted and ready for the day to be over.

\-----

“Hey, ‘Samu!”

Osamu turned, pausing mid-step as he walked down the street their house stood. Atsumu was quickly walking up to him, hands in his pockets and his expression set strangely. Osamu almost considered turning back around, but he stayed still while his brother finally reached him, stopping a few steps away.

“Whaddya want?” he frowned.

Atsumu turned his head down, and Osamu caught a glimpse of his eyes softening ever so slightly. He looked away, sighing through his nose. “Are… Are you stayin’ with the team next year?” Atsumu asked, his voice almost rasping.

The wind whipped through the nearby trees, which should’ve made Osamu shiver again. But instead he pulled his shoulders in a bit closer, shielding himself from the frigid air. “I was planning to,” he answered.

His brother’s eyes flashed as he finally lifted his gaze. It started small, gentle, but soon a confident smile grew on Atsumu’s lips. “So,” he shrugged, “we got one year left to show Karasuno and Itachiyama and everyone else who’s boss, right?”

It wasn’t the response he expected. The message was quiet, it was unspoken, but Osamu realized what was happening. “Yeah,” he said, almost breathless. He tilted his head, “Try not to get too excited though, we might not even pass the qualifiers.”

Atsumu scoffed, “What kinda faith is that?” His smile continued to grow, “We gotta make this next year count, yeah? Finish it off with a bang. If it’s my last chance to kick yer butt on the court, then I might as well outdo ya as much as I can.”

“In yer dreams,” Osamu rolled his eyes. “You’ll be soakin’ up every moment on that court while I’m still there.”

“Gross, you make it sound like I like you or somethin’.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, ‘Tsumu. I’m like the butter to your bread.”

Atsumu took a few steps forward, waving his arms out exasperatedly, “Oh, ya think yer so special. Gimme a break, dumbass.” He smirked at Osamu a second longer before casting a look at his doubled up jackets, “A little cold there? Want mine to add to the pile?”

“Nah, it ain’t too bad,” Osamu turned, stepping away to begin the trek homeward once more. Atsumu pulled up to his side, falling into step easily. He punched Atsumu’s bicep, and he retaliated by shoving him, and Osamu retaliated by shoving him back. 

Atsumu hummed, looking up in thought, “Hey ‘Samu, if you become some big, five star chef or somethin’, will you still come to see my games?”

“You wish,” Osamu ran a hand through his hair, pushing it aside. “By then I’d probably be so sick of volleyball I couldn’t watch another minute of it.”

“Are you for real?!” whipping his head around, Atsumu’s jaw dropped.

Osamu shrugged, grinning. Atsumu let out an offended huff, turning away from him and digging his hands deeper in his pockets. Chuckling, Osamu shook his head, “I’m jokin’ ya. I might cheer for the other team if you really start suckin’ though.”

“Well then I just won’t suck, plain and simple.”

“Right, good luck with that, ya big dope.”

They walked through the front lawn to the door, in a comfortable silence that Osamu so desperately missed. Before they entered their home, Atsumu’s hand rested on the front door, the key sitting idle in the handle. He turned to his brother, his gaze hesitant. “Hey, uh,” he said quietly. “Y’know… I’m s-”

“Don’t apologize.”

Atsumu blinked, surprised, “Why?”

Osamu stared at him, trying his best to keep his expression even, “You don’t gotta say anything.”

Even if his eyes went glassy, Atsumu didn’t cry. He smiled to the side, and it wasn’t some over-confident smirk as it always seemed to be. No, this smile was meaningful. His smile warmed Osamu’s insides more than the jackets on his shoulders. Osamu gestured to the door, “Lead the way?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu mumbled. He opened the door, stepping ahead into the light and warmth of home. Before he was turned completely, though, Osamu caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were shining. And as Osamu followed, he felt like his were too.

**Author's Note:**

> *claps* FOLKS. IT'S MIYA DAY, MOTHERFUCKERS. AND SO I OFFER YOU: sibling angst. Ouch. Yeah, I know. At least Granny is fine this time ahaha. I've been on this one for a bit now because nothing I did seemed quite right. But a burst of inspiration oh fuck, here it is! 12k words, good lord-
> 
> Back at it again with a Miya twins story from the perspective of Osamu, my husband- It's just so easy to write him! I don't know what it is!! I just click with his voice so much. This isn't my proudest work (can you tell I kinda rushed the ending?) but I still wanted to share. I have so many Miya twins/Inarizaki focused fics in my drafts, you don't even know. I just love these fuckers so much, and for what? What was the reason??
> 
> ALSO S4 IS BACK AND IT'S INCREDIBLE, OH MY FUCKING GOD OSAMU LOOKS SO GOOD. IT'S SO CRAZY SEEING THE BOY I FELL IN LOVE W IN THE MANGA, BUT LIKE, ANIMATED NOW. WOAH. YES MA'AM. Anyway! have a good day, drink some water, and stan Miya Osamu for good health.


End file.
